On the 21st my dog pudding passed away and now that im stable enough to talk about her i thought i would memoralize her in a diary entry by telling her story. Ever since i moved to europe i missed the nastolgic sounds of my parents three dogs that had kept me company all day, especially bearbear, a black pug who was attached to me by the hip and never left my side. all day i would hear their little snorts (2 pugs and 1 french bulldog) and the home never seemed empty. I loved their lazy temperment and their willingness to just cuddle in bed all day with me. When i moved i had frodo my cat and hes very affectionate but there was still a hole in my heart and i desperately wanted a dog too. I looked around wanting to give a home to a dog who needed it and came across a man looking for a home for his french bulldog. The ad featured a happy looking healthy frenchie with a smile, saying she had never had puppies before. I didn't want a dog who had been pregnant before because we live in an apartment on the third floor and I didnt want the dog struggling to go up and down them many times a day to pee since a pregnant dogs bladder is much worse. We arranged a meeting and when we showed up my heart instantly sunk. The dog in the photo was indeed her but the dog standing in front of me was a shell of that dog. she army crawled to us in a stance of submission with pleading eyes. Her frame was so starved you could see the outline of her ribs, facial bones, spine, ect. After a minute of petting my hand was slimey and brown with dirt. Puncture holes and scabs littered her beautiful face, chunks taken out of her ears indicating the several other dogs around her were attacking her previously. I picked her up to see saggy nipples and a large c-section scar on her tummy. Everything about that dog screamed neglect and i knew i couldn't leave her there. The man asked for some money for medical bills (ransom in my eyes) and we gave it to him and took her home. She had never been inside a home and it showed. She was an incredibly difficult dog to acclimate. She ran from our feet like we'd kick her, flinched from our hands like we'd hit her. She had accidents often in the house. We've spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars on medical bills on her battered body. She had leishmaniasis, was anemic, had blood parasites, gastrointestinal issues, had surgery for pyometra which caused her uterus to burst inside her and seizures, had surgery for her eyes. She hated other animals on the street and tollerated my cat frodo. In all typical ways, she was a horrible dog and i loved her to bits. I loved her stubborn piggy attitude headbutting my cat aside to hog the pets and love for herself. I loved when she'd dream and make little yips in her sleep. I loved the way she would follow me like a duckling every time i'd leave the room. I loved every time she'd take the opportunity to crawl into my lap when i'd sit cross-legged to blowdry my hair even though she hated the dryer. I loved the way her butt looked like a frog butt when she'd stand on her hind legs trying to climb up on my lap or the bed. I loved when i'd go to wake her up and when she heard my high pitched voice she'd start twitching her body in excitement despite being half asleep. I loved when she'd act like a grandma and get so tired of us staying up late that she'd stand with a big sigh and take herself to bed while we stayed in the office. I loved the way she slowly started to learn to play and would play with me like i was another dog snorting and nipping at me. We knew her time with us would be like hospice. The abuse was life threatening to her body no matter how much we managed to heal. The damage was already done. We got to have a wonderful christmas with her and she got to celebrate the only holiday she had in her life. We dressed her in her christmas onesie and took pictures in front of the tree before she had her piggie ear present from santa. She seemed the happiest she'd ever been. Our goal was to use what time we had with her to try to make up for the shit life she'd had until this point and i hope in her eyes we accomplished that, but i wish we'd had more time. 1 and a a half years wasn't enough for me. I hope we made it worth clinging to life for just a little while longer. She died very quickly on a walk outside with my fiance, she fell over and her heart had stopped and I couldn't be more thankful that she went quickly and painlessly. As sad as i am i'm thankful her suffering ended. I put her belongings like her unfinished medication and christmas onesie in a cabinet locked away to save my heart until it stops hurting as bad. My apartment is once again, silent.